


Heat of Passion

by bittenfeld



Category: Miami Vice, Miami Vice (TV)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Friendship, M/M, Male Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-24 06:37:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7497966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittenfeld/pseuds/bittenfeld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sonny over-reacts to an Internal Affairs’ investigation regarding his partner Rico, and sparks a confrontation with Castillo.</p><p>Final – Chapter 4:  Sonny and Martin work out their differences…<br/>… Sonny jerked spasmically, gasped a chuckle.  “You beat me fair and square, Marty.  I’m all yours.”  <br/>A tongue burrowed into his ear.  “Good.  Because I’m going to give it to you now.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“How the hell could I have known they were gonna ambush the fucking van?  You’re the one who said we should park it there!”

The slam of the office door behind Switek’s and Zito’s stomping entrance punctuated the smaller man’s outburst, jerking everyone’s attention in the office.

“ ‘Best surveillance point,’ you said.  ‘No one will see us here.’  Like shit! – they were glaring right down our throats!”  With an angry thump, Zito’s equipment bag landed on his desk.  “And how the fuck did they find out, anyway?  No one outside this office was supposed to know anything about the bust’s strategy.”

Brusquely Switek pushed past him.  “Oh, bug off, Lair.  Metro-Dade knew enough for one of their guys to leak it.  Jeezus-christ, it’s as hot in here as outdoors.  Haven’t they fixed the air-conditioner yet?  I’m sweating like a pig.”

“Well, if it isn’t the Bobbsey twins returning,” Crockett muttered from his slouch near the water-cooler.  “I hope you two enjoyed your little outing.  While you girls were out playing cops-and-robbers, you managed to miss Internal Affairs’ little tea-party here at the office.”  Tossing his crumpled-up paper cup into a nearby waste-basket, he wiped a bare sweaty arm across his own sweaty face.  “Stroh just clawed our guts out trying to pin the leak on Rico.  Goddamn bastard.”

“Well, excuse us all to hell,” Zito swore, banging his chair as he dragged it out from his desk and plopped down, “but we were getting our tails shot off while you guys were messing around here.  Lopez’ gang made off with the whole stash _plus_ the hundred-grand front money.  Now, if IA would just get their shit together and close the leak, _maybe_ we could assure a righteous bust next time.  This was the fourth goddamn fuck-up this week alone.  I don’t care who the fuck it is – I just hope IA takes ‘em down hard.”

Sonny’s heft lurched forward belligerently.  “They’re trying to take down Rico! – or don’t you give a fuck about that either?”

Slamming her pen down on the table-top, Gina stormed out of the office, with only a sharp exhalation in place of words.

“Sonny,” Rico urged gently from his desk across the room.  “It’s okay, man, chill out.”

“Of course we care about Tubbs,” Switek insisted tiredly.  “We’re just sick of getting our asses shot at because somebody’s already spilled the beans every time we think we’re going in undercover.  But as a matter of fact, Tubbs _was_ the only one who had access to Lopez last evening.  Stroh probably thinks that he…”

“Keep your mouth off my partner…!”

“All right, that’s enough,” Castillo ordered, materializing in his office doorway.  “You’ve all blown off enough steam.  Get back to work.  Switek, Zito, I’ll need your reports by the end of the day.  IAD will want a copy too.”

But as he turned back to his inner sanctum, Crockett blocked his way, contention setting the younger man’s jaw feistily.

“And where were you while Stroh was chewing out Rico’s ass?” the blond demanded, gravelly voice level and tight.  “You know Tubbs is innocent.  He didn’t have anything to do with those phone calls.  You know that!”

Sharp black eyes squinted into the other man’s irate face, quiet husky voice announced, “You’re out of line, Crockett.  Go sit down.”

But Sonny only plunged ahead blindly, ignoring the softly intense command.  “Stroh just wants to rub shit on a good cop – he’s not interested in plugging the leak.  Why did you let him get away with it?  Why the hell didn’t you back up Tubbs, and kick Stroh out on his ass?”

For one lengthy moment of controlled calm, Castillo assessed the man before him, then responded matter-of-factly, “Stroh’s concern regarding the phone calls is valid.  And coincidentally, Tubbs was the only one in the office at the times that the calls allegedly came through; however - ”

“Goddamn you!”

In that instant, fire exploded in green eyes, rage twisted blond features, and with no further thought, a solid fist pistoned through eighteen inches of air to smack against the other man’s jaw; and a dark head impacted smartly against the door jamb, rattling the window blinds against the glass.

“Sonny!” Rico called, thrusting up from his chair, but it was already way too late.

And in the next instant, frozen out of time, the scene stood like a grotesque tableau:  Switek and Zito and Tubbs at their desks; Sonny staring in stricken horror at what he had just done; Castillo pressed back against the wall, grimacing in pain, fingers clutching the edge of the doorway for purchase to keep from going down.  Only the droning hum of the electric fan stirring the hot mucky air around the room interrupted the utter stillness.

Carefully the lieutenant straightened, lithe taut body rigid and tense on the verge of counter-attack, fists clenched at his sides.  Black eyes crystal sharp reamed the man in front of him, breath rasped arrhythmically against Crockett’s own adrenalin-charged panting.  Blood welled from a split lower lip; slowly one fist raised, and knuckles wiped away the red smear, while the acute gaze never shifted from his subordinate’s sickly-pale face.

Sonny looked like a man whose insides were slowly dissolving, like a suicide who had changed his mind a second too late, like someone who could see their entire future shatter into ruined shards in one vivid split-second of profound stupidity.  As though his legs were about to fold under him, he reached out a hand to the wall for support.

The molten rage in Castillo’s eyes solidified into ice-cold steel control.  Blood dirtied the left side of his moustache; bloody saliva stained his teeth.  In a deadly soft voice, he ordered, “Go into my office and wait for me.”  Then without waiting to see whether or not he would be obeyed, he turned and walked out; and a few seconds later, the door to the men’s room out in the hallway opened and slammed shut.

Blindly Sonny’s distracted gaze flickered over his office-mates, not seeing them, or not acknowledging them if he did.  Then forcing his weak knees to move, he entered the lieutenant’s cubicle, dropped down onto the black leather couch, heart and lungs working double-time, and tiredly rested his forehead in one hand.

And the three other men in the outer room glanced at each other, and said nothing.  All the intensity from the earlier argument had abruptly decalesced, replaced now by chilly awkwardness and nervous anticipation.  Rico looked toward Castillo’s quarters, unable to see Sonny on the couch, but sympathizing deeply with the man’s present shame and dis-ease.  Switek watched the outer door, awaiting their supervisor’s inevitable return, while Zito pulled out a report-form in which to drown his concentration and shut out the rest of the world.

A long two minutes passed, before the hollow slam of the restroom door echoed through the corridor again, and Castillo reëntered the office.  His mouth and chin were clean now, although the cut lip looked painfully raw, and his hair was matted wetly in the back where his skull had whacked against the door jamb.

Casting a steel glower about the room, as though to squelch any other latent insubordination, he announced flatly, “I don’t want to be disturbed for the next ten minutes,” then strode into his office and closed the door solidly.

Helplessly Switek looked over at Rico, and wondered aloud, “Is it possible to skin someone alive in just ten minutes?”

Rico nodded absently, watching what he could through the blinds in the lieutenant’s office.  “If anyone can, Castillo can.”

And neither of them had to add that whatever their supervisor chose to do to Sonny, Sonny would just accept it meekly.

Inside the office, Castillo sat at his desk, an unblinking stare watching the other man hunched on the couch across the room.

Crockett was gazing at the black-and-white linoleum floor, staring into nothingness, elbows propped on knees, chin resting on clasped hands.  Hot shame burned his face.  “I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” his hoarse voice managed to get out.  “Please…”

His wallet-badge and gun already lay in offertory surrender on the desk-top.

Ignoring the apology and the offer of resignation, Castillo pushed the items back toward his subordinate; announced bluntly, “Get these off my desk.  I don’t want them.”

Acquiescently Sonny retrieved the objects, fingered them distractedly, eyes still hypnotized by the floor tiles.

Long tense silence.

“So… I, uh, guess I better… put in for a transfer…”

“Don’t bother – I’ll reject it.”

Submission closed the hazel eyes.  “Then what do you want?”

“What I want is to be able to rely on my senior detective.  I can’t do that anymore, until he remembers how to react from his head, instead of his adrenal glands.”

Sonny tried to make his dry throat swallow, tried to apologize again.  “I didn’t mean to do it, Lieutenant… I guess I’m… my head’s not on straight… I dunno, with IA on our asses, I was feeling claustrophobic…”

Castillo said nothing, so Sonny continued, “It was just that after Stroh dragged Rico’s reputation through the mud right in front of me… and then you sounded like you were validating his accusations … I just assumed that you were accusing Rico of selling out, too.”

“That was a stupid assumption.”

“I know.”  Sonny nodded docile obeisance.  “It just seemed that when he needed you most to back him up as his supervisor, you were deserting him instead.”  He still couldn’t meet the dark stare lasering into him.

“When have I ever not backed up any of you?”

Sonny’s head shook.  “Never.”

“Stroh’s concern about the phone calls is valid; his accusation of Tubbs is not.”

Another acquiescent nod.  Finally Sonny got enough saliva to swallow.  “So, uh, what’s next?”

From the breast pocket of his sweat-damp shirt, the Latin pulled out a handkerchief to dab bleeding lips again.  “I’m going to write up an incident report for your personnel file; and as of right now, you’re suspended for a week without pay.  The streets don’t need another hot-headed cop, and no one in this unit can afford to rely on a careless team-mate.”

A heavy sigh of resignation escaped Crockett’s throat.  The discipline wasn’t the worst that the lieutenant could have pronounced for striking a superior, but it still felt like an icicle knifing him in the gut.  His muscles constricted around the sick throbbing guilty pain.

Bluntly Castillo queried, “Do you have anything else to add?”

“No,” Sonny replied lamely, frowning at the floor.  “Just that I’m… really sorry, sir… and I’ll do anything I have to, to regain your trust…”

For a long moment, Castillo watched the disconsolate figure, then shifted his attention to paperwork on his desk; and informed the other man simply, “The report will be available tomorrow morning for your review and signature.  That’s all.”

Stiffly Crockett pushed himself up off the leather couch, and walked out of the office and the outer room, not even bothering to stop by his own desk on his way out the door.

Rising from his chair in concern, as his partner passed through, Rico started to go after him, but Castillo’s voice interrupted him.

“Don’t you have work to do, Tubbs?”

Carefully Rico sat back down, eyeing the figure through the blinds, who wasn’t even looking at him.  “Uh, yes, sir,” he relented in quiet obedience.

From across the room, Switek cast Rico a sympathetic wary look.

* * * * *

 _to be continued_ …


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonny has been suspended for a week after losing his cool and punching the inspector. In a calm interlude, Tubbs comes to by to offer support, then later the lieutenant shows up at Crockett’s doorstep, and Sonny tries to make amends.
> 
> …Green eyes softened, flickered in Rico’s direction. “I guess I really f**ked up today, didn’t I?” “Yeah, partner, you did,” the New Yorker agreed matter-of-factly. “You know, I think that’s the first time I ever saw a man dig his own grave, and then dive in so eagerly.”

A hot humid summer day gave way to a hot humid summer evening.  Not a breath of wind stirred the muckiness, not even the suggestion of a sea breeze.  The thick smell of the docks hung heavy in the quiescent air.

“Sonny, you home?”  A tentative rap of knuckles on the open hatch-cover.  “It’s me, pal.”

Down below, a blond face peered out from the cabin shadows.

Tubbs held out the beer and chips he had brought.  “You in the mood for some company to­night, partner?”

“Not really, but come on down,” Crockett grunted, climbing up to join his visitor on deck.  Damp hair stuck up in peaks like he’d just gotten out of the shower.  In one hand he gripped a crumpled t-shirt.  Pushing aside the clutter from one side-bench, he plopped down, and pulled the shirt over his head.

Tubbs stood in front of him, offered an open can of beer, nudged him knee to knee.  “How’s it goin’, man?”

Sonny’s mouth tightened sardonically.  “Oh, just swell.  I always like to spend the afternoon get­ting so screwed by IAD that I take it out by decking our boss.  And whatever part of my ass IA didn’t get, the lieutenant did.”

Tubbs didn’t answer; slouched back on the bench beside his partner, and sucked a long cold swallow of Coors down his throat.

Green eyes softened, flickered in Rico’s direction.  “I guess I really fucked up today, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, partner, you did,” the New Yorker agreed matter-of-factly.  “You know, I think that’s the first time I ever saw a man dig his own grave, and then dive in so eagerly.”

Sonny allowed a tiny crack of a humorless smile.

“So, uh, what all did the lieutenant do to you?”

“Week’s suspension, no pay, and an incident report.”  In frustration, a hand rubbed over tangled blond locks.  “I suppose it could’ve been worse.”

“It could’a been a lot worse.”  Rico nodded.  “Man, we all thought he was gonna take your badge… with your hide attached.”

But Sonny’s head shook.  “He didn’t want my badge… or my skin.”  Releasing a heavy sigh, he stared out at the glittering lights reflected on the gently lapping swells of the bay.  “Shit, we’re really a pair, aren’t we?  You under investigation for conspiracy… me, suspended for blowing my cool and plow­ing our supervisor.  Damn…”

“Yeah,” Tubbs agreed, “except that I’m not guilty, and you are.”

“Yeah, you got that right,” Crockett had to admit.

Honey-colored gaze followed Crockett’s across the harbor.  “Uh, listen, buddy.  Y’know, it means a lot to me to have a partner willing to go the limit to back me up when I need it.  But don’t lose it, Sonny-man.  You  can’t do me or the lieutenant – or yourself – any good, if you whack out.”

“I know.”  Another heavy sigh of fatigue.  “I wonder if Castillo has forgiven me yet.”

“I’m sure he has, after he cooled off.  You know he’s not the kind of guy to hold a grudge.  Hell, we were all a little edgy today after the shit IAD put us through.  Listen, is a week with­out pay gonna strain you?  If things get tight…”

“Nah.  Thanks, partner, I’ll make it.”

“The lieutenant cares about you.  You know that.”

“I know.”

“You’re still working through a lot after that… Burnett shit.  He’s concerned for you – we all are.”

“I know that, too – and I appreciate it.  But just ‘cause my head’s still all fucked up, doesn’t give me an excuse to deck our boss.”

“Well, anyway, if you need – anything – to tide you over for the week… let me know.”

Sonny nodded absently.  From his shirt-pocket, he withdrew a pack of Luckys and a lighter, tapped out a cigarette, lit it, and exhaled a thin line of smoke into the stillness.  Some distance away, a cabin cruiser, engines on low, moved across their line of sight; a few seconds later, the disturbed water slopped against the St. Vitus, rocking it gently.  On a nearby yacht, a happy-hour get-together was running full-swing.  Twilight gold faded to cobalt.  The two men sat side by side, drinking their beers, neither speaking for awhile.

Tossing the smoldering butt into the dark water below, Sonny finally broke the silence.  “Lis­ten, Rico, I really don’t want to think about this any more for the time being.  Can we just call it a night?  Think I’ll hit the sack early.”

“Sure, pal.”  With a tug to his pants-legs, Rico stood up.  “I understand.”  A supportive squeeze to the other man’s shoulder.  “Y’know, you said it, partner – we really are a pair.  And we’re both gonna work out our respective problems.  C’mon, man.  It’s all gonna work out somehow.”

“Yeah,” the blond agreed shallowly.

“All right.”  Rico retreated up the gangplank.  “But if you decide you can’t sleep, you need something – anything at all – call me.  I don’t care what time.  If you need company, or if you just want to talk… y’know…”

“Yeah, Rico, okay.  And, uh, thanks for stopping by.”

The black man winked at him, extended a ‘thumbs up’.

* * * * *

By Friday evening, the heat and humidity had diminished from intolerable to merely bother­some.  His one-hundred-and-third hour of banishment found Sonny finishing dinner and clearing the table, when he heard footsteps topside, and went up to greet his visitor.

Castillo stood there in shirt-sleeves, manila folder in hand.

A thin needle of apprehension pierced Crockett’s gut.  They hadn’t seen or spoken to each other since the incident Monday afternoon.  And Tubbs could suggest all he wanted that the lieute­nant had probably forgiven him, but Sonny didn’t intend to assume anything until Castillo himself indicated that the debt was satisfied.

“You haven’t been in to sign the report.”  Without wasting time on salutations, the dark Hispanic man proffered the folder.  “Look it over, add any comments that you wish, then turn it in Monday morning.”

Acquiescently Sonny accepted it, tried one more time to apologize, feeling more self-con­scious than he could remember feeling in a long time.  “I’m really sorry, Lieutenant.  I never meant to thump you like that.  God, I…”

“I know.”

Sonny forced himself to meet the unblinking stare, as he had been unable to do five days before in Castillo’s office.  “And I’m sorry for disappointing you.  I know I let you down, and I hope I haven’t completely destroyed your faith in me… and I hope you’ll forgive me.  I promise it won’t happen again.”

“I know it won’t, Sonny,” the taciturn man allowed, and the intensity in black eyes softened.  “And I know you can do your job.  Understand that the discipline is mandatory; however, I’m going to file it without the chief’s signature.  The incident will not go beyond me.”

A breath of relief eased from Crockett’s nostrils.  “Thanks, Marty.  God, I wouldn’t hurt you for the world, you’ve got to know that.”

“I do.”  Hands slipped into slacks’ pockets.  “Have you seen the psychologist yet?”

Sonny shrugged, dropped his gaze to the floor. “Yeah, I saw her Wednesday afternoon.  I’ve got another appointment next Tuesday.”

“What has she said so far?”

“What I already know.  That I’m the one who has to come to terms with it.  No one else can do it for me.”  Tentatively Sonny rubbed a finger across his forehead.  “Is the suspension lifted now?”

“Yes.”

“Then can I go back to work tomorrow, instead of waiting ‘til Monday? – without pay, of course.  I’ve got a week’s work-load to make up for.”

“No.  It was meant as discipline.  But it was also meant as a break for you to relax and re­cover.  And don’t worry about your work-load – I’ve spread it around.  Oh, and I’ve assigned the Randal case to Gina and Trudy.”

A tiny grin quirked Sonny’s lips.  “Y’know, the psycholo­gist’s first recommendation was for me to get out of town for awhile, take a vacation.”  Another little grin as he shook his head.  “As if I have to time to do that.”

“You have the time,” Castillo pronounced.  “You’ll never heal if you just keep pushing your­self.  _I’m_ the one who has no time.”  He smiled – a rare thing.  “Gina was urging me to take off for awhile, too.  In fact, she was threatening to drive us both down to Key West and strand us at the lodge for a week.”

Sonny winked at the other man.  “I’ll make you a deal, Lieutenant.  You take a week off, and so will I.”

Castillo’s gaze squinted out at the view of the harbor beyond, as he counter-suggested,  “Before we think about that, do you have any plans for tonight?”

“No.  I just finished supper, and was gonna share some quality time with Elvis before turning in.”

In response to his name, the alligator lying in the aft of the skiff, growled roughly and rattled his chain.

Castillo reached out a hand to touch Sonny’s arm.  “Then c’mon, let’s take a drive.  We need to talk.”

“Sure, if you want.  Just let grab my keys.”

But with a smile, Castillo held up his own keys.  “ _I’m_ driving this time.”

* * * * *

By seven PM, the sun had set, and only twilight illuminated the landscape.  Rush-hour traffic was thinning now, and as they headed north, Castillo drove the Plymouth off the main thoroughfare and onto the less-travelled coastal route.  To the east, the Atlantic’s blue was fading gradually to a depthless dark grey.  Only now with evening settling in, did the day’s heat begin to loosen its hold, as a light breeze washed in over the water.

They had driven for nearly twenty minutes without speaking yet.  Sonny, slouched back in the upholstered seat, glanced over at the Hispanic man behind the wheel and the sharp black eyes squint­ing out the windshield.  A vague uncertainty still colored the space between them, a few nerves still exposed and tender.  Tentatively Crockett tested the thickness of the protective shields which each had erected five days before.

“Where are we going?”

The older man’s gaze swept the road.  “Some friends of mine own a small private beach up here north of Fort Lauderdale.  Every now and then I come up, just to get out of the city for an eve­ning.”

“Martin, are we still friends?”

Calm eyes briefly shifted his way.  “Of course.  That was never in question.”

Sonny shrugged a little, returned his gaze to the scenery sliding past the car.  “Well, I wasn’t sure you’d still… accept me, after I blew my cool like that… In fact right after it happened, I wasn’t sure you weren’t gonna skewer me alive, right then and there.”  Off to the left, the roar of jet engines at Fort Lauderdale-Hollywood airport re-doubled the car’s rumble; to the right, the crash of breakers splashing on the beach echoed the noise.  Salt tang teased Crockett’s nostrils.

With one hand, Castillo steered the vehicle, fingers resting loosely on the bottom edge of the wheel.  “Your behavior was out of line.  I won’t take that from any of my people.  But our relation­ship was never at stake.”

Crockett nodded acknowledgement.  Yet the shocking images of that split-second remained praeter­naturally bright in his mind, like a grotesque stop-action movie:  of his own fist connecting solidly with Castillo’s jaw; of the lieutenant’s head snapping back smartly and impacting the jamb with a dull sickening thud; of Castillo’s instant reaction – blazing feral rage sparking in black cat’s-eyes, suppressed a moment later beneath a veneer of cold civility.  And in that moment, Sonny Croc­kett had seen an aspect of their superior that everyone knew about, but always overlooked – a precise Com­pany-trained assassin, an expert in covert ops, a killer who knew forty ways to take a man out before the victim ever knew he was there.  And Sonny knew he never wanted to see that laser-sighted stare lock onto him ever again, for as long as he lived.

“Why didn’t you throw me off the team?” he probed curiously.  “Any other supervisor would have busted my rank and kicked me back down to walking a beat – if they didn’t take my badge away altogether.”

Surveying the intersection before them, as they waited at a red-light, the lieutenant responded matter-of-factly, “You’re a good investigator, one of the best I’ve ever worked with.  You were duly reprimanded and suspended for your breach of conduct.  To take your rank or your badge would have been unwarranted, and would only have deprived the department of one of its top undercover peo­ple.”

Irony pulled at Sonny’s lips, as he admitted contritely with a breathy chuckle, “That repri­mand in your office was the worst part of the punishment.  Tougher than the suspension.  I was really suffer­ing.”

“I know you were.”

“I never wanted to make you angry with me...”  With a shake of his head, Sonny let the sen­tence drift off.

“I’m not angry anymore, Sonny.”

Again Crockett looked at the other man’s profile, lean graven cheeks high-lit by passing street-lamps; sensed the barriers between them start to dissipate.  “Marty, you know, you’re a fine super­visor, the best commanding officer I’ve ever worked under – in the service or out on the streets.  You tell us our jobs, then you leave us alone to do them.  You support us no matter what.  And when we need it, you whip our butts into line.”

A side-long glance from the driver.  In the growing darkness, catch-lights glinted in black eyes.  “And I’ll whip yours hard, if you ever pull a stunt like that again.”

Sonny grinned, a fully relaxed smile now, as old camaraderie finally slipped back into place.  “I know you will, Marty.  I promise never to give you cause again.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Then as a final peace gesture to re-seal their lacerated relationship, Sonny offered his hand.  Castillo took it; and for a lingering moment, the two men just let the physical warmth of clasped palms underscore their restored communion.

* * * * *

 _to be continued_ …


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An indulgent expression half-closed Castillo’s eyes, as his hand continued its external massage. “I brought you here because I thought perhaps a change of scenery might do you some good…” “Marty…” was all Sonny could manage, panting, breath taut. He grinned, breathless. “I… think… it’s working.”

Returning his gaze to the night landscape rolling past, Sonny wondered, “Are we getting close to your friends’ beach?”

A quick glance into the mirrors, then Castillo pulled off the street onto a rough dirt road toward the ocean.  “We’re here.  About a half-mile down this way.”

A locked chain-link fence blocked their path.  Castillo gave Sonny a key to open the gate, then they continued down the access road to a small cabana situated on a low grassy ridge over­looking a nar­row white-sand cove.

Stepping out of the Plymouth parked beneath a triad-cluster of date palms, Crockett took in the view from the driveway of the cabin.  To the southeast, the moon was rising; and in the reflected light, lit­tle silvery glitters sparkled all over the tiny beach.  At the far end of the cove, three seagulls roosted on a pile of driftwood.

The dark cabin was obviously uninhabited.

“I take it your friends aren’t at home right now.”

“No, they live over in Tampa.  They hardly ever get over this way.  Here.”  Handing a folded-up tarp from the back-seat for Sonny to carry, and taking a six-pack of beer himself, Castillo led the way down half-a-dozen hewn earthen steps to the sand.

The evening breeze was comfortable warm, not chill, just a welcome break from the steamy heat of the day.  Sitting on the tarpaulin, forearms resting on bent knees, Sonny stared out over the night water.  Behind them, some distance away, sparse traffic could be heard, but no one outside the pro­perty could see down into the cove.  The pleasant seclusion was a definite asset despite the rela­tively small size of the area.

A swallow of alcohol slid down warm and smooth.  Turning partially to the Latin beside him, Sonny commented, “I haven’t heard from Rico today.  Any word on his investigation?”

“No.  IAD is still trying to determine if the phone logs were altered, or if someone outside could have intercepted the calls in question so that they never rang at OCB.  That would explain why Tubbs says he didn’t receive any calls at those particular times.  Right now it’s only Tubbs’ word that he didn’t take them.”

The old irritation jumped again in Crockett’s belly.  “Those bastards know that Rico is telling the truth.  He’s got no reason to lie.  He’s never been on the take, and they know it.”

“IA-investigations is always an unpopular task,” Castillo reminded calmly, knocking back a swig.  “They’re just doing their job.”

Crockett snorted.  “Yeah, well, that fucker Stroh really likes his job.  He’s had it in for me ‘n’ Rico for years now.  I think someone ought to investigate _him_ – find out why he’s always so eager to dig up dirt on everyone else.  Shit, maybe Vice busted his mother for hustling ten years ago, or some­thing.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what his problem is,” Castillo agreed.

In the congenial ambience, the two men sat together on the ground-sheet, shoulders barely touching every now and then, as one or the other shifted position slightly.  They drank their beers, listened to the water roll up on the sand, listened to the bustle of civilization behind them.  Overhead, the stars glittered brightly, undimmed by any smog or haze.

Gradually Sonny settled in to the presence of the man beside him.  It felt good to be on open terms again, good to know that wounds were finally healed.  In the anti-climax of last Monday’s confronta­tion, he sensed the old rapport warm again between them, found himself subtly aware of Castillo’s essence as he had never really paid attention before:  listened to the sound of the lieute­nant’s calm soft breathing, could imagine the pensive expression on the dark Latin face, without even looking.  And then, without warning, a faint wash of eroticism stole over him from some hidden cor­ner of his mind, startling him, embarrassing him a little; and something niggling deep in his brain insinuated teasingly that maybe this wasn’t the first time either.

To try to clear his mind, he drew a lung-ful of sea air, and with it came the subtle spice of Castillo’s aftershave as well.  The familiar yet sud­denly seductive scent triggered a responsive sting down in his loins, and he could feel a warm flush wash over his body… damn, he should be reacting like this… where were these ideas coming from?

Again he attempted to distract his errant thoughts.  Finishing off his beer, he spoke to the man beside him, eyes on the night sky.  “Lieutenant, you said we needed to talk.  Did you just mean that lecture on the way up here?”

A faint shrug of shoulders.  “Yes and no.”

The enigmatic response only heightened the vague sultry shift of mood.  Sonny cocked an eyebrow.  “What does that mean?”  Above them, he watched the white glowing headlights of a jet as it descended toward the landing field.

Castillo was staring up at the sky with him, arms resting loosely on bent knees, voice still quiet and even, as he calmly replied,  “I brought you here for another reason.”

Another surge jolted deep in Sonny’s loins; momentarily he wondered if Castillo really could read his guilty thoughts.  He didn’t dare look at the other man, but parried evasively, “Conversation, huh?”

“More than conversation, Sonny.”

And at that simple blunt pronouncement with an undercurrent to obvious to be ignored, Sonny started sharply; jerked his head toward his neighbor, directly into the Hispanic’s black gaze staring right at him, the scarred high-cheekboned face inches from his own.

“Marty…” Sonny blurted, and wasn’t sure what else he intended to say, maybe apologize for the lustful notions playing in his consciousness, or maybe take forthright action on the erotic goad­ings and pull the dark man into his arms.

But Castillo acted first; and closing the last few inches between them, usurped the choice from Sonny’s prerogative, to kiss him full on the mouth.

As though a switch had been thrown, galvanic current sizzled straight down Sonny’s spine from the pressure of moustached lips on his own, to the surge of blood in his genitals.  Helplessly he moaned, surface nerves twitching excitedly, and returned the pressure as best he could.

Until finally Castillo broke contact, watched the green eyes, seeking the other man’s permis­sion to continue.

Sonny was staring back at him, heart thudding with electric shock, lips tugging into a smile.  “Damn, Marty…” he commented blithely, feeling his cock signal its own approval, “it ain’t talkin’ we need to do.”

Castillo’s head just leaned closer again; and this time Sonny met him halfway, mouth slightly open, experienced the sensation of prickly/soft moustache, of hard teeth behind firm lips, of a wet tongue flicking his own lips tentatively, then slipping into his mouth.  Involuntarily Sonny grunted, body lurching with an adrenalin jolt, then opened his mouth wider to allow the man total access, and slid a hand into thick black hair.

They kissed intently, tongues probing eagerly, intimately, rough breaths dragging, until Cas­tillo parted them once again.

Hesitantly Sonny looked over the man beside him, body and mind screaming a million signals at him… god he only hoped nobody would change their mind tomorrow…  “Marty… I…”

“Lie back,” Martin ordered quietly, touching a hand to the front of Sonny’s shoulder.

With a little grin of uncertainty, Sonny obeyed, sinking back to his elbows on the tarp, while wat­ching to see what the lieutenant would do next.  He didn’t try to interfere, didn’t try to assist.  Just watched.  A flush of anticipation stole over his body; he felt heat radiate from his skin, as Martin’s fingertips danced over his belly, so lightly, making his muscles flutter; and a breath escaped as a chuckle.

Dark eyes flicked up to Sonny’s face momentarily, then returned to the business at hand.  Care­fully the long fingers unzipped the fly of Sonny’s white trousers; but instead of opening it right away, slipped down outside the linen material to the growing bulge inside the left pant leg.  A gentle caress up and down the taut fabric, thumb ever so lightly brushed the captive head.

“… oh!…” Sonny moaned abruptly in excitement, and involuntarily his hips lurched off the tar­paulin.  Responsively he drew up his knees and spread them, offering everything he had to what­ever Castillo wanted to do with it.  The exploring hand slid along the inner side of his thigh, then cupped the swelling between his legs and squeezed lightly.

“Marty!” Sonny gasped, beginning to squirm his ass responsively to increase the keen pres­sure and sensation against his tender parts.  “…ohh, Marty…”  Breath exhaled noisily, shuddering, as he rocked eagerly.

An indulgent expression half-closed the Latin’s eyes, as his hand continued its external massage.  “I brought you here because I thought perhaps a change of scenery might do you some good – I hoped you might find it… inspirational…”

“Marty…” was all Sonny could manage, panting, breath taut. Air escaped between his teeth, as a warm friendly hand finally pushed through the lacings of his fly, found its way into his shorts and grasped his throbbing cock and balls…  He grinned, breathless.

Tiny smile hid beneath thin moustache.  “Tell me what you want.”

Wonderful little stings zipped all through Sonny’s nerves from Martin’s gentle but persistent mani­pulations.  Delight brightened blond features, and he grasped the wrist of the hand which was promising all sorts of good things to him.  “Anything!  Anything you want…” he whispered/moaned.  “…oh god Marty…”

Castillo said nothing.  Withdrawing his fingers from the fly, he grasped the waistband of Sonny’s slacks and undershorts, and worked the clothing down off hips and thighs.  Sonny squirmed to assist as best he could, lifting his buttocks up, and helping with his own hands; kicked off his loafers, stripped the clothes off and pushed them to a far corner of the tarp.  Grit on the cover-sheet ground against his naked ass, but he could overlook the slight prickly discomfort, beneath the exci­ting intensity of Martin’s interested gaze, as he lay there, propped up once again on his elbows, naked except for a thin t-shirt, knees spread invitingly with the dark man kneeling between them.

Martin’s hands rested on Sonny’s knees, while liquid dark eyes observed the acquiescent body offered to him.  In the clear moonlight, Sonny’s skin reflected white except for the dark thatch of pubic hair which shadowed his crotch and nestled the bulk of his swollen genitals.  Beneath the scrutiny and nothing more, Sonny felt the ticking pulse of blood fill his cock and lift it up to attention, waiting for Martin’s caress.

Yet still Martin didn’t touch where Sonny wanted him to, but rather took the time to unfasten his own clothes, and remove them.  Shirt was shrugged from his back and tossed onto the pile of Sonny’s clothing; then shoes, and finally trousers and underwear followed.  As it was freed, his own near-full erection arched up against a flat-muscled belly, and the blood-filled scrotum hung heavy between lean thighs.

Sonny’s happy grin widened in admiration at the sight of his lover’s equipment, and inquisi­tive fingers had to reach out and explore the other man’s body.  The weight hefted satisfactorily in his hand; and now it was Castillo’s turn to draw a slow deep breath as he watched the fingers tease him, carefully curl about his shaft and begin to milk it, lancing tiny electric tingles deep into his loins.

“Tell me what _you_ want,” Sonny murmured in return, eyes just as bright and intense as his lover’s.  “Let me try to make it good for you, Marty.”

Castillo’s shuddering breath matched Sonny’s, as the blond played with his hard flesh, slowly, sen­sually, pumping the loose skin up and down the solid core, until Martin thought he would lose it all right then and there.  Intoxicating little spasms surged all through his body with a heady rush, and eagerly he gripped Sonny’s cock to reciprocate.

Then forcing Crockett’s knees apart even wider, he lay down upon the hard well-muscled body, rum­pling Sonny’s t-shirt up to the armpits so that they could lie bare skin to bare skin, and firm tits could rub together, while hot loins rocked hard against each other.

Mouths pressed, tongues intruded, a prelude to more-intimate penetrations forthcoming.  They tasted each other’s breath; tasted each other’s wetness.  Hearts throbbed with nervous tension, while they kissed and kissed any way they could.

Taking Martin around the waist, Sonny’s hand’s smoothed up his ribcage, down his hips, molded and squeezed tensed buttocks, absorbing the sensation of soft slightly-clammy skin, delinea­tion of muscle beneath.  Erotically he kneaded the ass-cheeks, separating them while Martin humped against him, slipped the fingers of one hand into warm cleavage and touched a sensitive anus.

Castillo’s body jerked as though a live wire had stung him; then moving his ass against the fea­ther teasing, he bent his head once more to the task.  Sucked and bit beneath jaw-line, over a vul­nera­ble throat, one side then the other, shoulders, pectoral swells, moustache caressing hairless skin.  Desirously Sonny writhed under him, rubbed frantic hands all over Martin’s nude body, grabbed fist­fuls of thick black hair, dragged rough fingers through disheveled locks.  Again they kissed, tongues licking eagerly, wetly, lungs pulling deep gulps of night air.

Finally Sonny broke the kiss, stole a hot firm lick along an angular jaw, up to an ear, nuzzled into the aural opening.  “Fuck me, Marty” he begged breathily, and licked the captive ear.  “I want you to fuck me.”

“Are you sure…?” Martin questioned, still groping two sets of genitals aching with need.

Helplessly Sonny bucked responsively to the relentless stimulation.  “God, yes…!” he managed to gasp.  “… do it to me, Marty… fuck me… please…!”

* * * * *

 _to be continued_ …


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonny and Marty work out their differences…
> 
> … Sonny jerked spasmically, gasped a chuckle. “You beat me fair and square, Marty. I’m all yours.”  
> A tongue burrowed into his ear. “Good. Because I’m going to give it to you now.”

“Fuck me, Marty” Sonny begged breathily, and licked the captive ear.  “I want you to fuck me.”

“Are you sure…?” Martin questioned, still groping two sets of genitals aching with need.

Helplessly Sonny bucked responsively to the relentless stimulation.  “God, yes…!” he managed to gasp.  “… do it to me, Marty… fuck me… please…!”

“All right,” the dark man acceded easily, and started to maneuver them both into posi­tion.

But he didn’t see the moonlight glint in green eyes; and without warning, Sonny grabbed him, nearly knocking his air out, and wrestled him off the tarpaulin.  Caught by surprise, Castillo sprawled into the sand with his lover landing on top of him.  Breath shot out in an explosive grunt.  A hand latched onto his wrist, attempted to twist his arm back into a lock.  Skillfully he wriggled out of it before his attacker could incapacitate him, then tussled the blond down.  Sonny laughed with delight as they tumbled to the water’s edge, and he didn’t fight very hard as the taller man pinned him from behind in the wet sand, kneed his thighs apart and mounted him.  The naked scuffling had brought both men to full hard erection, both on the verge of climax.

Sea water ebbed around them, splashed over their legs, washed the grit off their sweaty bodies.

Grasping Crockett’s hips, Martin lifted the pale buttocks up, forcing the other man to hunch on elbows and knees.  “Are you sure you want this?” he hissed a challenge in his lover’s ear, running an intimate finger up and down gluteal cleavage.

Sonny jerked spasmically, gasped a chuckle.  “You beat me fair and square, Marty.  I’m all yours.”

A tongue burrowed into his ear.  “Good.  Because I’m going to give it to you now.”

And then the finger snuggled into the hot tight orifice, and in a sudden rush of climax, denied too long, unable to hold it back, Sonny exploded a burst a warm fluid onto the water-logged ground beneath him.  “… _gdd!_ …”

A convulsion of exquisite pleasure rippled through his body as Martin held onto him; hips lurched to expel a second burst from his loins, before he crumpled to the ground in exhaustion.  Again Castillo pulled his hips up, then spreading the salt-water-slick ass with both thumbs, nudged his rigid prod into the tight hole.  Erotic pain of penetration dragged a sharp intake of breath between Sonny’s clenched teeth, as he felt the thick intruder squeeze and buck its way inch by inch into moist warm rec­tum.  A strong hand reached under him, found one erect tit, tweaked it, pinched it until Crockett squirmed in pleasure/pain and wriggled back onto the invasive cock.  Then the other hand slid down his groin and grabbed hold of his softening genitals, pumping and manipulating the hand­ful, rubbing the dribbling semen all over the sensitive flesh, pulled and tugged, worked the swollen scrotal sac like clay, almost being rough with it; and beneath the demanding stimulation, Sonny felt himself grow hard again.

Castillo’s erection pounded into him; the dark man panted with the exertion.  Holding onto Sonny’s privates for leverage as he rammed home time and time again, he slipped the other hand from his partner’s nipples down to the smooth wet ass again, and smacked one buttock smartly, once, twice; and Sonny grunted and lurched in surprise.

Martin bent over him, chest against Crockett’s smooth muscled back, lips nipped the skin of his neck, tugged at shaggy blond hair.  At the sensitive stimulation, an icy tingle spidered out Sonny’s nerves, and he quivered, while kisses tongued and sucked across his shoulders, down his hunched spine.  He could feel Martin’s long bulk filling him tightly, rubbing vigorously in and out of the slick sheath, nudging his prostate, could hear heavy grunts moaning from the dark man’s throat, more and more desperate the faster Castillo rode him.  Martin was gasping noisily through his mouth now, pounding toward completion, rocking Sonny’s body with each hard pistoning stroke, as his hand con­tinued to pump the vein-laced skin of Sonny’s reviving cock.

Need rose again in Crockett’s blood, and he couldn’t help but start slamming back on the deep penetration, squirming to increase the rough masturbation.  Sweat oozed from two laboring bodies as they strained that last inch toward climax.  Then suddenly Castillo grunted hard, clutching captive hips to his thrusting loins, and exploded his hot load into the moist dark hole, forced Sonny onto him as tightly as they could fit together.  The gush of wetness deep in his entrails triggered Crockett’s second orgasm, and he spattered white droplets of fluid into the eddying wash swirling soupy sand around his knees and elbows and hands.  The convulsive clenching of his anus around his lover’s pulsing organ coaxed another burst from the Cuban; and momentarily neither man was aware of any­thing but blinding driving pleasure appropriating their conscious minds for long seconds of ecstasy.

“God, Marty,” Sonny gasped, when they had gained some semblance of normality, and crawled back to the tarp to strip off his wet shirt and lie there panting and resting.  “Damn, I can’t remember fucking like that since… I don’t know when…”  Hands folded beneath his head, he gazed up into the night sky, listened to the wash of wavelets upon the beach.  Night breeze whispered over their wet sandy bodies.

Martin lay face-down beside him, an arm across Sonny’s chest, breathing hard.  “How do you feel?”

A playful grin stole across relaxed blond features.  “Drained.  Totally dragged out… and sorer than hell.  I feel like I just got a steel pipe rammed up my ass… Damn, all these years, I never guessed that’s what you had in your pants…”

Castillo grinned softly.

Eyes closed, Sonny smiled contentedly.  “I’d say your relaxation therapy works, Lieutenant.”

“I’d say that’s an accurate assessment of the situation, Detective.”  Black curls stuck sweat-plastered to Martin’s brow.  “When you think you can walk, we’ll go inside to shower, and get you some aspirin, then go to bed.”

“I don't  think I’m gonna be able to walk for a long time,” Sonny pronounced.  “Tell you the truth, I wouldn’t even mind sleeping out here the rest of the night.”

“Sure, if that’s what you want.”  Rolling toward his lover, Martin reached out a hand.  Gently his fingers described circles around one of Crockett’s nipples.  “Anything you want, Sonny.”

Hazel eyes lit mischievously.  “What I want is more of the same… after I recuperate from the first time.”

“You’ll get it,” the dark Hispanic man promised, rolling onto his back, arms beneath his head, mirroring Sonny’s pose, “… just as soon as my body decides to function again.”

Together they lay in the moon-washed darkness, letting the light sea-breeze evaporate the sweat from their bodies, letting silence draw in around them.  Neither moved for a long time, content to listen to the waves, and watch the stars, and enjoy each other lying close.  Comfort and serenity settled between them.

Finally Martin broke the silence, voice still husky from the total rough consummation.  “Sonny, about the incident report…”

Sonny started briefly, wondering what Castillo had in mind.  Did good hard loving override supervisorial duty?  Was Castillo going to offer to erase the report?  Hesitantly Sonny responded, “Yeah, what about it?”

Continuing to stare up at the stars, Martin released a contented sigh.  “Naturally, it still gets filed.”

Sonny couldn’t help but grin into the darkness.  “Naturally.”

* * * * * **FINIS** * * * * *

 


End file.
